


Cats In The Cradle

by LokiNeedsHugs1031



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Abusive John Winchester, Caring Castiel, Caring Sam Winchester, Cas is an awesome boyfriend, Child Abuse, Childhood Trauma, Crying Dean Winchester, Crying Sam Winchester, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotionally Hurt Dean Winchester, Established Castiel/Dean Winchester, Family Don't End in Blood, Fluff and Angst, Human Castiel, Hurt Dean Winchester, Hurt/Comfort, John Winchester Being an Asshole, John Winchester's A+ Parenting, Love, M/M, Men Crying, Men of Letters Bunker, Past Child Abuse, Protective Winchesters, Sam is a Sweetheart, Supportive Sam Winchester, Why do I do this, Young Dean Winchester, Young Sam Winchester, cas is a sweetheart, this hurt to write
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 07:17:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,184
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7748302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LokiNeedsHugs1031/pseuds/LokiNeedsHugs1031
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean works through his own depression and dealing with, more or less, unresolved past abuse with his father</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cats In The Cradle

**Author's Note:**

  * For [jjeess001](https://archiveofourown.org/users/jjeess001/gifts).



> So I wrote this because of a prompt from one of my readers from my 'Firsts' fic I wanted to have this a stand alone cause it ended up being a lot longer! PLEASE review!!!! I gifted this to jjeess001 because she gave me the prompt!!! so I hope you like!!! :D

Hunts rarely stuck with Dean and also the contents of said hunts, the people they lost, the monsters they killed. He’d learned to ‘deal’, just the way of the world, or his world anyway. Like every other hunt, here he was, stuck in the ER with Sammy with a sprained wrist and Cas dealing with a concussion. The doctors, of course in perfect fashion, weren’t letting him in as they tended their patients. He leaned his head back against the wall of the gross, nauseating beige colored walls of the hospital. He was nearly dozing, hospital coffee finished and obviously useless, when he was forced to make notice of the rising voices in the waiting room.

“You were supposed to be watching him, you little shit, and here he is with his head banged up!” the loud sound of a slap pierced the hum of the waiting room, “What have I told you, watch him, ONLY him, you little fuck!”

“Daddy I’m sorry, please,” the little boy’s voice cut through the air, “Please! I-I just w-wanted to talk to my friend, I only turned my back for a second. He was on the slide and I just…”

Another loud smack and Dean’s eyes were officially open, he was out of his seat before he even thought twice, “Hey!” he was descending upon the obvious son and father, eyes burning, “What the fuck is wrong with you?! He’s just a kid!”

“Back the fuck up mister, this isn’t none of your business,” the father growled, wrenching his son sideways, earning a yelp.

“Isn’t any of my business?! It’s the whole fucking waiting room’s business! You’re hurting him!” Dean yelled, putting himself between the son and father.

“None of your BUSINESS!” the man yelled again.

“Yeah it is you fucking son of a bitch it is my business and I’m calling child services!”  
Dean shouted, the boy bowed behind his protective arms. The child was crying now, cheek burning and swollen, Dean noted, and trying his best not to lose it. Something he was so accustomed to. “It’s okay buddy, listen,” he turned away from his shouting Father, “You don’t have to do this, you don’t, we’ll find you help huh? I’ll get you some help.”

“He’s my dad” the boy cried, lurching forward, away from Dean and into his father’s arms.

“Stay the fuck out of other people’s business!” the man cried, pulling the boy away.

Dean was frozen, his stomach clenching, and he damn near yelped when he felt a hand at his shoulder, “Dean.”

“Cas,” Dean began but words lodged in his throat like storms, Cas’ impossible blue eyes were narrowed in concern, his head adorned with a brilliantly white bandage.

“Where are you going?” Cas asked as Dean moved away suddenly.

“That ‘Dad’ over there just hit his kid I’m gonna beat the shit out of him!”

“Dean no!” Cas huffed, taking him firmly by the elbow, “We’ll call the proper authorities but you are not going to jail, that will do no good for the boy or yourself.”

“No!” Dean protested, fighting hands, “This is bullshit, we need to call the cops and I need stop him from bringing that kid back to hell.”  
            “The cops have already been called,” Sam supplied, seemingly out of nowhere.

“It isn’t enough!” Dean growled, shaking off the hands of both Sam and Cas, “Just meet me in the fucking car.”

 

When they entered the bunker, Dean was no more receptive to touch than he was at the hospital, even when Cas followed him into their bedroom he refused to speak.

“Dean, talk to me,” Cas began.

“What is there to talk about?” Dean growled, shrugging off his flannel, toeing off his boots, “Why the fuck do we do anything we do huh? It’s worthless, pointless.”

“Why do you say that?” Cas asked, worry churning in his gut.

“Nothing, it’s nothing,” Dean huffed, collapsing to the bed, “I just wanna sleep.”

“Dean,” Cas contested

“No, I wanna sleep,” he snapped, gathering the pillow beneath his head and hugging it close.

“Dean,” Cas growled his name again, joining him on the bed and roughly tugging him forward, “Look at me.”

“I’m tired Cas!” Dean spat, but it was softer, and then he was hiding his face in the pillow.

Cas knew when not to push so he exhaled roughly, running one set of fingers through Dean’s hair and when Dean gave a quiet sigh he kissed the top of his head, “Get some sleep.”

 

The next night, after quite a bit of distance between them, Cas had fallen asleep on top of the covers and Dean had been at his side. However, when he awoke some time later Dean’s side of the bed was empty, “Dean…” he spoke into the blackness of the bedroom, he pushed up from the bed, bare feet hitting the cold concrete floor, he shuffled into the living room where the television flickered into the dark. Dean was sprawled out across the couch surface, arms crossed loosely at his chest and eyes closed.

Cas sighed heavily, padding over to the couch as quietly as he could, but as soon as he breached the edge he saw Dean’s eyes barely open.

“Baby, what are you doing up?” Dean asked half asleep.

“I could ask the same,” Cas answered, tone low, without asking he scooped up Dean’s feet and set them in his lap, setting his own on the table in front of him and leaned back as far as he could to the back of the couch.

“You don’t have to stay up with me, I’m fine,” Dean muttered, but as Cas idly ran a thumb over the ball of one foot, before joining the other hand and executing one of his oh, so perfect massages, which only made him sigh, turning his head to the side and closing his eyes once more.

“Go to sleep Dean,” Cas resumed his light petting, moving his light touch to one foot and then the other, before kneading away the tension in his calves, before he knew it Dean was asleep. He heaved a sigh himself and rested his head backwards, lulled smartly by the soft hum of the TV.

 

Cas was woken up by the not so soft steps of Sam entering the living room, his eyes felt like lead, but then he could hear Sam’s voice and his attempts to wake Dean.

“De, hey, can you wake up a sec?”

“W-What, what is it?” Dean growled, and snorted, arms near flailing, “What?!”

“I got a phone call from the social worker at the hospital, I know that’s why you’ve been brooding over the last couple days. They arrested the dad, kid is safe, they relocated him to his grandpa’s. Thought you’d want to know…” Sam finished.

Dean sat silent, eyes still plagued with sleep and his hair spiked and messed in every direction, he wetted his lips and was nodding, “T-That’s great Sammy, I’m glad…”

Cas was eyeing both brothers, frown firmly in place and still trying to figure out what time it was, “Dean, are you alright…”

“Fine, Cas, fine,” he pulled his stiff legs out of Cas’ lap and scrubbed at his mussed hair, his throat working convulsively, “I’m gonna get a shower.” and then he was gone.

“I thought he’d be happy, he’s been so bummed the last couple days,” Sam huffed, arms falling at his sides.

“Something else is going on with him, I’m just not sure what that is,” Cas answered, running both hands over his face.

 

It went on like that for at least a week, Dean was short tempered, quick to snap, but Cas was waiting for the breaking point of whatever this was. He followed Dean into the kitchen, after nearly three days of short one word answers. He was fiddling with the cabinets, they snapped shut loudly one after another, snap! Snap! Snap!

“Why can’t anyone put anything back the way it should be?!” Dean shouted, “All I wanna be able to do is to find my fucking cereal!”  
            “What the hell is wrong with you?” Sam’s voice arrived, breaking the near glass shattering silence of the room.

“Sam just don’t, “Cas began, hands out, getting up from their kitchen table.

“Cas what?” Sam began, “Don’t call him out on how he’s been such a major dick to me? To you?!”

“Sam don’t,” Cas took a breath, moving slowly forward, arms again outstretched.

“You need to talk!” Sam pleaded.

Dean bit his bottom lip near bloody, “I don’t need some goddamn intervention!”

“What intervention? We just want you to tell us what’s wrong, this isn’t about cereal!”  Sam began.

“NO!” Dean spat, “Who put everything back wrong?! Ya know, I only ask one thing, we aren’t living in some fucking motel! I wanna be able to find my shit where I left it last! Not a helluva lot to ask!”

“Dean!” Sam finally shouted, “This isn’t about fucking cereal!”

“Oh, yeah Dr. Phil then what?! What the fuck is this about?!”

“That kid, that kid in the hospital, it upset you more than you care to admit.” Sam bit at his lips, jaw clenching and twitching as it always did when he was upset.

Dean knocked a kettle from the countertop, “Kid is fine according to you so I really don’t think that’s a problem now!”

Cas finally took the chance to move forward, and attempted to take Deans’ wrist, “Dean,” he tried to speak again, “It bothers you and that’s okay.”

“What exactly is it that bothers me Cas, huh? Kid is okay, what could be bothering me?!”

“That no one did the same for you,” Cas said in a definite tone.

Silence. Such trill silence that glass could be broken alone with its power.

Dean was swallowing roughly, so much so it looked as though it hurt.

“What…” he actually trembled.

“Dean,” Sam tried again, eyes starting to burn, “This is about Dad isn’t it…”

Dean’s eyes locked on the opposite wall, away from his brother and away from his partner, “So what if it is…”

“Then tell me…” Sam pleaded.

“Would’ve been nice…for someone to step in, ya know the first time he dislocated my shoulder…would’ve been nice if someone fucking spoke up…with my first concussion, my head split because he didn’t take his ring off and he didn’t remember a lick of it. Or when I was, I was…” he gasped, hands now pinching into his hips and his green eyes filling up against his will, “No one was there! Why didn’t…Bobby just take us…when I was six…and I couldn’t sit down for a week, because his belt was his favorite thing…and I couldn’t…I had to…in case he did…to you...Sammy…” he covered his mouth with both hands, biting into one set of knuckles in fear he might actually lose it completely.

And then Cas was just there, arms around him and pulling him close, not really saying anything besides the bright and gentle murmur of sweet nothings. Dean took advantage and buried his face in Cas’ shoulder and the sob that broke through the control he’d fought so hard to maintain shattered any and all that he had. Sam moved forward but when Dean seemingly flinched, Cas shook his head and mouthed ‘later’ and he was maneuvering Dean into their bedroom. As soon as he closed the door, Dean simply lost it, and Cas had never seen him like this. Clinging and seemingly desperate, and it was rooted in confusion and panic.

“Dean, listen to me, you’re alright, it’s alright, you’re here with me,” Cas murmured, pressing lips to his temple, along his jawline, “You’re safe, with me,” he repeated, kissing once more softly along his jaw and resting at the back of his neck.

“Sorry,” Dean sobbed loudly against the nape of Cas’ neck, a sloppy wet sound following another heart wrenching cry.

“Shhh,” Cas soothed, “You are not apologizing, not for anything.”

“Stupid, so stupid,” Dean cried, fingers bunched up in the fabric of Cas’ flannel.

“Why is it stupid? You being upset? There shouldn’t be a reason why you’re sorry at all, you never talk about these things Dean. You act as though your father were some perfect hero, he could be good at times, but he wasn’t kind to you. He robbed you of a childhood, in more ways than one. You’re allowed to be hurt, to be angry.”

“But I can’t be…in the end…he sacrificed himself…for me…” Dean gasped.

“Doesn’t matter,” Cas argued, “He may have done good in the end, but Dean, he hurt you. There’s no erasing that, and there’s nothing wrong with addressing it, do you understand that? It’s alright…”

Dean’s chest produced an even stronger, earth shattering sob, which only made Cas lead them both to the bed. He pulled him down, urged him beneath the cover, snug to his side and held him tight. One hand rubbing firm circles in once place against the taut flesh of his back, the other scratching and teasing his scalp, every now and then caressing one lobe of one ear in between fingertips. It took a long time, maybe even an hour, but then Dean was quiet and huffing and hiccupping like a small child against Cas’ chest.

Dean had long since fallen asleep, Cas still caressing him carefully, to high-strung to fall asleep himself. That was when he heard the door creak and Sammy’s mournful eyes peering around the edge.

“He asleep?” he whispered.

Cas nodded, “Sometime ago.”

“Why didn’t he tell me?” Sam exhaled watery like.

“I truly believe…he didn’t want to taint your memories of your father any further…” Cas offered.

“I knew Dad could get violent…but not like that…” Sam sat down in the chair at Dean’s makeshift desk, “He never told me…all this time…”

“You brother is not the most open book; wouldn’t you agree? Neither are you I’m afraid…” Cas sighed, eyes closing momentarily, lips only resting against Dean’s forehead.

“I know,” Sam’s eyes lowered, “I still feel bad though…I don’t like him burdening this shit all by himself….”

 

_They were on the playground, some place in Lawrence Dean couldn’t figure out. But it was sometime in the 80’s and the equipment was nearly all steel, some thrown together half-assed attempt at making a park for local kids. And he was off to the side, hands buried in his leather jacket, a big smile on his face as an eight-year-old Sammy yelled “Watch me! Watch me!” for perhaps the hundredth time that afternoon as he spun himself around in the tire swing._

_“I’m watchin’ Sammy!” Dean shouted with a chuckle, as soon as the words ‘not too fast you’ll fall’ were about to leave his 13-year-old mouth Sam spun too hard and went tumbling. And hard, Sammy wasn’t a baby about falls, so the fact that he immediately began to cry made Dean’s heart leap to his throat, “Sam!” he rushed to his little brother’s side, as soon as he saw the trickle of blood make its way past his hairline he felt physically ill. He pulled the bandana he had in his coat pocket and pressed it to the cut, “Sammy, it’s okay, just a little cut, you hurt anywhere else?”  
            Sam sobbed, shaking his head._

_“Got the wind knocked outta ya didn’t you…” Dean sighed in relief._

_Sam nodded, eyes pinched shut as the tears continued to make fast tracks down his cheeks, “I-I’m okay…” he said finally when his breath was back._

_“Yeah, you’re okay, man you scared me, don’t do that again…” Dean took another breath, moving the bandana away to check the progress, “Not too bad, already slowing down.”_

_“I don’t have to get stitches?” Sam asked, eyes wide and fearful._

_Dean gave him his best smile, “Nah, nothin’ like that, like I said, tiny little cut. No battle scars for you just yet, come on, let’s get back to the hotel before Dad gets back.” he pulled Sam up from the playground gravel, “You want a ride?”_

_Finally Sammy smiled too, “Yeah!”_

_Dean bent at the waist, “Well, hop on.”_

_Sam did as told and Dean ‘oofed._

_“You’re getting big buddy, won’t get to do this much longer.”_

_Sam only laughed, wrapping his arms righter around his brother._

_They made it back to the hotel and Dean wasn’t expecting John to be sitting at the small table at the window, “Where have you two been?”_

_“Dean took me to the park, they had a tire swing,” Sam said, climbing down off of Dean’s back._

_“What’s that?” John’s brow furrowed, pointing._

_“I fell down, it’s okay, Dean says no stitches,” Sam explained in his non-chalant ‘it’s no big deal’ kid way of relaying information._

_“He fell?” John was up from the table like a bullet, Sam’s face cradled in one hand._

_“It’s okay Dad, I’m alright,” Sam added quickly, feeling the immediate rise of tension in the room._

_John’s jaw was clenched, brow already pinching, “Sammy, go wash your face, change your clothes you’re all scuffed up.”_

_“I’m okay,” he started._

_“Sam, go, I’m talking to your brother now,” John snapped._

_Dean stood stiffly as he watched his little brother disappear into the bathroom with a worried look marring his young face, the door closing with a click. The silence was a killer. It always was, “Dad I…”_

_As soon as the pipes burst to life and water was splashing in the sink, Dean was rewarded with a slap, “So what the hell were you doing exactly? Checking out girls? Or just doing the usual shit job of keepin’ an eye on him!”_

_Dean tried to keep steady on his feet, back bowed in anticipation of another hit, “I never took my eye off him, he just spun too fast and…” he was suddenly pressed to the wall, his dad’s large hand twisting his wrist._

_“You wanna let your mom down? Huh? All our hard work to make her proud, keep the baby alive she died for and you let him split his head open on a fucking playground?”_

_“No sir,” Dean trembled, “I-I would never do that…” he nearly yelped when his wrist was given a swift twist once more which made his eyes spark to life with tears, but he bit his lip not wanting Sam to hear._

_“Don’t you fucking cry,” John growled, he moved away giving Dean another shove, “Crying over shit you could have prevented is unacceptable, you hear me?”_

_“Yes sir,” Dean managed to push past his lips, tasting the blood there from the hard slap, when he heard the click of the bathroom door once more he hurriedly wiped at his mouth and face, keeping one hand over his lips._

_“Come on Sam, let’s go get some supper, huh?” John’s tone changed as if he’d never laid a hand on his oldest._

_“What about Dean?” Sam’s mouth turned into a soft frown._

_“Dean’s not hungry.”_

_As soon as the motel door slammed shut, Dean slid to the floor, burying his face in his hands. He’d screwed up again. He deserved this. He always deserved it._

The memory or dream, or whatever the fuck it was popped him out of sleep as if he’d been shot. The room was dark and the sound of Cas’ sleepy breaths filled the room and for a moment he simply sat, letting the presence of Cas ground him into the present. He glanced at the red glaring numbers of the alarm clock across the room 2am. Jesus, when did he fall asleep? And then he remembered his ridiculous meltdown in both the kitchen and then here in bed with Cas. He was sure, some stupid voice in the back of his head, that purging like that would make him feel better. But frankly he didn’t. He moved out of bed as carefully as he could, pulling the blanket higher around Cas’ shoulders. He padded into the living area, going to the liquor cabinet and pulled out the good stuff. Whiskey, Brandy, he wasn’t sure. He poured himself a healthy amount and moved to one of the couches. He sat there in silence for a long time, sipping at his drink, before he moved to the record player that Cas had found weeks before, he picked up one of his own records and put it on the table, settling the needle. He kept it low enough as to not alert the rest of the bunker he was awake.

He returned to the couch, flopping down and downing the rest of the glass, his eyes were falling closed. Close to sleeping, not quite. He hadn’t realized that he had, more or less, fallen asleep with his face hidden in his hands. So he nearly jumped out of his skin when Sammy arrived in his line of sight.

“Dean, hey, you okay?”

“Sammy…” Dean breathed somewhere between a gasp and a tired cry, “Yeah, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not,” Sam said, sitting beside him on the couch.

Dean inhaled, nearly growled, he wanted to protest, wanted to snap and tell Sam to go to bed. But something told him ‘stop’, “You remember that playground in Lawrence? Fuck, of course you don’t….”

“The tire swing? Yeah, that was a blast, why?”

Dean’s throat was working convulsively, “Yeah, I know you did….and then I didn’t watch you and you fell…and you hit your head and you bled.”

Sam’s brow was furrowed, and then pain met his eyes, “I remember having fun, but until now I didn’t remember me getting’ hurt. God…Dean…you paid for that didn’t you…”

Dean shrugged, “Wasn’t the worst time, but…wasn’t good…I just felt so bad that I didn’t keep ya from getting hurt.”

“Dean, Jesus, I was a kid, kids get hurt!” Sam protested, “Fuck…he hit you then didn’t he…I remember you not going out with us.”

“Another one of his punishments, me not getting to eat,” Dean huffed a forced laugh, scrubbing his face again as tears burned closely.

Dean might have ‘oofed’ as Sam gathered him close to his chest but he knew as much that his only option was to reciprocate and wrap his arms around his little brother, “Sammy, it’s okay.”

To Dean’s horror Sam was crying, cries that shook his baby brother’s chest, “It’s not okay, it’s not. I falling down didn’t warrant you a beating.”

Guilt ate its way into Dean’s chest, “Sammy no, no, it was never because of you, ya got that? Hey!” he held Sam roughly, he squeezed him tightly to his chest, one hand finding its way into his too long hair, “It wasn’t your fault I wouldn’t do anything different, you hear me?!”

“I’m so sorry Dean. I was aware of it, I was, but I didn’t know it was that bad. I’m so sorry. And then I left you, went to college and he was still hurting you wasn’t he?!”

Now Dean was sure he was crying now, the cries hitched up without control, and he somehow just didn’t care, “Sammy please don’t, it was just the cards we were dealt.”

Sam calmed himself down, “I know, I know why you did it. It’s okay.” he sobered quickly when he realized that Dean was crying too. And that he hadn’t seen in ages. Dean never cried, never indulged. He credited this to Cas. Cas was the end all be all of Dean. And Cas opened him up, made him admit things, feel things. So thankfully, the roles reversed and Sam was holding his older brotherly tightly in his hold, murmuring that everything was alright, even though they were far from that.

Sam couldn’t remember ever holding Dean like this, being the one to help instead. It was grounding, so when he saw Cas peering around the corner of the living room doorway he smiled. Cas was hesitant but Sam ushered him in with a sideways nod.

Cas knew full well that Dean wasn’t asleep, nothing like that. But was happy, no, thrilled, when he placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder and he didn’t flinch or bark that he was ‘fine’. He folded away from Sam and fell into Cas’ chest, cries still mounting, but nothing like the pained ones he’d heard in the bedroom before.

Cas kissed his temple, his cheek, and tentatively his mouth before simply hugging him close, “It’s okay Dean, it’s gonna be okay.”

Sam rested his cheek against Dean’s turned back, “Dean, thank you, thanks for always being the big brother I needed. You took it the extra mile, just like always.”

Dean made some kind of deep grunting cry, still not moving up from Cas’ shoulder as he wound an arm around the back of him to clutch at Sam, he muffled something that made some sense to Sam that made him smile, “I love you too Dean, it’s okay, you’re an awesome big brother...always have been. Always will be.”

 

**Author's Note:**

> Please review my lovely readers, they are my LIFE and make me write more!!!!!


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